Chapter 59: The Pieces Assemble
On the storm-wracked shores of Hachinosu, the Whitebeard Pirates were a machine of controlled fury. The full might of the 43 allied fleets—over 160 ships and 170,000 souls—had answered the call. The sea around Skull Island was a forest of masts flying the iconic mustache.
Marco the Phoenix landed before his father, his face grave. "The armada is assembled, Oyaji. And the Red Hair… he struck Marineford. Reports say Sengoku is wounded, but Shanks disengaged. He's made no further moves."
Whitebeard, seated on his command chair like a king on a weathered throne, nodded slowly. "Separate the wheat from the chaff. Take only the strongest. The rest stay. This is not a war for farmers or kings with armies to lose." He had refused offers from grateful kingdoms; their involvement would give the World Government the excuse to obliterate their homelands.
He looked out at the churning sea, his mind on the enemy. "Cut all communications. Sweep the seas clean of Marine surveillance ships. We move as a ghost. As for the red-haired brat… he was testing Garp's mettle. Garp has grown quiet in his old age, and Shanks is a cautious hunter. He also gave Sengoku a bloody nose as a reminder—Sabaody is a line not to be crossed." A grim smile touched his lips. "But it changes nothing. When we sail for Ace, even Sengoku will hesitate to pit Garp against his own grandson. The old hero's heart is his greatest strength… and our potential weakness."
"Understood, Oyaji!" Marco saluted, the orders already flowing from him. The massive operation began: selecting the elite vanguard, establishing communications blackout, hunting Marine scouts. The war machine grinded to life.
Marineford
Three days. The countdown was etched into the stone of the fortress, now partially scarred but defiantly standing. Repair crews worked around the clock. The air hummed with a tension thicker than the sea fog.
"Shichibukai Donquixote Doflamingo has arrived!"
"Mihawk! The 'Hawkeye' is here… his gaze alone feels like a blade."
"Warlord Jinbe refused the summons. Admiral Kizaru detained him. He's en route to Impel Down on a prison ship."
"Serves him right. Enjoy the privileges, shirk the duty."
"Admirals Aokiji and Kizaru are back! Damn that red-haired fox… he timed it perfectly. A humiliation and a warning in one stroke."
"If Admiral Black Crow had been here… he took down Rayleigh alone. He could have handled it."
The fortress was a hive of gathering power. The remade Pacifista, Kuma, stood in silent, emotionless formation. The Warlords, those who had answered, gathered in their own cliques, watching, calculating.
In the highest strategic chamber, Fleet Admiral Sengoku presided over a war council, his left arm bandaged from his clash with Shanks. He assigned zones, roles, and contingencies to his Vice Admirals and lower officers. The Admirals—when they arrived—would be free agents, the ultimate response units. All were veterans… except one.
Sengoku's thoughts were a tangled web. The upcoming battle's stakes were global. But personal loyalties ran deep in Marine culture. He glanced at the empty seat where Garp usually slumped. The Hero was conspicuously absent, his internal conflict a palpable wound in the room. Sengoku himself felt the tug. He would do what was necessary, but the cost…
His brooding was interrupted by a sudden, rising wave of noise from the plaza below. Shouts, exclamations, a buzz of pure shock.
"Admiral Black Crow is back?!"
Sengoku blinked. Already? Given the distance and Hancock's notorious stubbornness, he'd expected delays.
In the guest quarters for the Warlords, Doflamingo perked up, a wide grin spreading. "Fufufu… the main attraction arrives." He strode to the window. Mihawk's sharp eyes followed, a spark of interest within them. Even Gecko Moria looked up, his paranoia flaring. Are we next?
The commotion swelled. Voices carried up through the broken windows:
"—has the Pirate Empress on his shoulder!"
"—Hancock was captured too?!"
"—my eternal idol! He's carrying the most beautiful woman!"
"—how is that possible? She's a monster!"
"—not as monstrous as our Admiral!"
Moria's face twisted. "What is the meaning of this?! Do they plan to eliminate us alongside Whitebeard?!"
Down in the main square, Levi walked with a purposeful stride, the unconscious form of Boa Hancock slung casually over his shoulder like a sack of grain. Her magnificent hair trailed, her famed beauty rendered inert. The sight was so absurd, so brazenly disrespectful to a world-famous Emperor-level figure, that it momentarily silenced the usual military discipline. Marines stared, jaws slack.
Levi ignored them all. His destination was the command tower.
Sengoku, watching from the conference room window, felt a headache blossom behind his eyes. The bandage on his arm throbbed in sympathy. This boy… did he just 'collect' a Warlord? What in the name of all that's holy is he thinking?
The Fourth Admiral had returned. Not with diplomacy, not with a negotiated escort, but with a trophy. In the tense, grief-stricken, pride-wounded atmosphere of post-attack Marineford, Levi's entrance was a lightning bolt of pure, unadulterated shock.
The final pieces were falling onto the board, and one of them had just been delivered unconscious over someone's shoulder.
(End of Chapter)
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